


Undisclosed Desires

by DSK1138



Series: Dratchet Party Sept 2020 [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkwardness, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, caught masturbating, even though they're already in a relationship, these two are silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26683447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSK1138/pseuds/DSK1138
Summary: On their way back to the Lost Light, Drift and Ratchet's relationship has blossomed into something much more, but neither one wants to make the first move in the bedroom.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Series: Dratchet Party Sept 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936510
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	Undisclosed Desires

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a few days late, but this is my work for Dratchet Party Day 6: Secret Dreams. I couldn't let the week go by without doing at least one nsfw piece for them!
> 
> I decided to write a bit of an awkward first time. As much as I love imagining them in a perfect, gentle lovemaking session, I think the first time was a bit less coordinated, especially if they're already horny from being pent up in a small space together for so long.
> 
> Enjoy!

_ “Oh, Ratchet!” _

Transfluid gushed from Drift’s swollen spike where it was buried deep inside of his partner’s valve. They moaned together as Drift continued to thrust through his overload. He was addicted to this, watching Ratchet come more and more undone around him.

The medic’s valve stretched and rippled around him, tugging him deeper, deeper. Oh, Primus, he was going to overload again. He was so, so close, and then Ratchet tossed his helm back and made a noise that was just  _ indecent _ and the sound went straight to Drift’s spike.

“ _ Yes!” _

He bolted upright in the berth, gasping as a sudden wetness coated his thighs. Drift’s face flushed immediately when he realized what had happened. This particular scenario had occurred before, with increasing frequency over the past month or so since he and Ratchet had become… well, whatever they were now.

They’d been greatly enjoying each other’s company, and more than one adventure had ended with a steamy make out session in a chair, or a berth, or against the wall… or, well, you get the picture.

But they hadn’t quite made it to home base yet, as the humans phrased it. Not that either of them were averse to it, exactly. It just hadn’t happened yet, and, well, Drift felt awkward bringing it up. He’d heard all sorts of stories about Ratchet’s escapades in the berth, and while logic told him that not all of them were likely true, it didn’t make him any less intimidated.

But that didn’t stop him from fantasizing, and oh, did he have some vivid fantasies.

The first incident had occurred when their shuttle broke down somewhere. It was the first time they’d stopped in quite a while, and the close proximity had stirred some feelings within Drift. And then, when Ratchet busied himself with repairs, he’d bent over the ship console at  _ just _ the right angle, and Drift wanted  _ so _ badly just to take him right there, repairs be damned.

He’d taken much longer than usual in the washracks that night.

Those sorts of scenarios had become more common, but he could handle it, at least, until he started  _ dreaming _ about it.

He prodded a digit at the stickiness coating his thighs. Drift was far from inexperienced, but when it came to Ratchet, it was a little embarrassing just how little control he had over his own frame.

He pulled a cloth from his subspace, intending to clean up his mess as quickly as possible before he was caught, but it seemed luck was not on his side today. The door to their shared hab slid open with a hiss, and there stood Ratchet, recognition dawning in his optics before Drift could scramble to hide the evidence.

“Scrap! I’m so sorry, Ratchet! I didn’t mean to… uh, let me just clean this up real fast.”

Drift’s face burned even hotter, if that was possible. The surprise playing out across Ratchet’s features curved into a sly smile.

“So that’s why you’ve been spending so much time alone in here lately, huh?”

He moved to sit on the berth next to Drift, placing a servo on the other mech’s thigh, and it took all of Drift’s self control not to let out the whimper he was just barely holding back.

“You don’t need to clean up. Messy is a good look on you.”

He licked his lips hungrily, and Drift’s optics nearly short circuited.

“I- you-”

Ratchet pressed a finger to his lips, hushing him.

“To tell you the truth, you’re not the only one.”

There was the snap of a panel retracting, and suddenly Drift was presented with an eyeful of Ratchet’s valve. It was even more beautiful than he’d imagined, plump and swollen with arousal, and dotted with beads of… wait, was that lubricant?

He opened his mouth to say something, but the only sound he could make was a muffled noise of surprise as Ratchet popped two of his digits into Drift’s mouth.

His optics widened in surprise when he recognized the sticky sweet taste immediately. Ratchet’s fingers were coated in his own lubricant! Had he been…?

With a wet  _ pop _ , Ratchet drew the digits back out, grinning salaciously.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. About how much I want to grab you by those plump, round hips and slam myself onto your spike, over and over.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?!” Drift sputtered.

“I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. And I still don’t. If you don’t want this, we don’t have to-”

“I want it! You have no idea how much I want this, Ratchet.”

“Tell me what you want, then. Do you want to spike me, or for me to spike you?”

“I… I kinda wanted to spike you, if that’s ok.”

“Kid, I would  _ love  _ to ride your spike.”

Ratchet moved closer, shifting himself into Drift’s lap. His valve was  _ just _ out of reach, but Drift forced himself to be patient. It was easier said than done, especially when Ratchet reached between his thighs and took hold of his spike, slicking it in the remaining transfluids. The speedster’s hips twitched, and a shaky moan escaped his lips.

He was already so painfully revved, but thankfully, Ratchet seemed to realize this. He let go of Drift’s spike and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss to his partner’s lips.

“It seems like we’re both plenty prepped. Are you ready?”

“Please,” Drift moaned, spike throbbing even though it was no longer being touched.

“Then who am I to deny such a pretty little thing like yourself?”

Without waiting any further, Ratchet lined himself up and began to sink onto Drift’s spike. They moaned in unison. Drift was hyper aware of each caliper as his spike scraped past them, plowing a path deeper and deeper into Ratchet’s valve.

He was tempted to buck the rest of the way in, but held off, afraid of causing his partner pain. Ratchet seemed to be of the same mind, taking things slow. However, Ratchet’s body apparently had different plans. His legs gave out without warning, and he slid down the rest of the way onto Drift’s spike, crying in surprise and arousal as the length collided with his ceiling node.

“D-damn knee joints.” Ratchet let out a string of curses, but it sounded a lot closer to a plea than anything.

The sudden heat enveloping him was too much, and Drift couldn’t help it. He overloaded embarrassingly fast, coating the inside of Ratchet’s valve in his transfluids.

“O-oh, Primus, Ratchet. I’m so sorry!”

_ Great. _ Not only had he been caught self servicing, but now he’d overloaded way too fast. Could this day get any more embarrassing?

“It’s- ngh! It’s all right, kid.” Ratchet seemed to struggle to gain his own bearings, especially with the lovely heat now spreading through his valve.

“You’re not done yet, if I have anything to say about it. Just- ngh! Gimme a moment.”

Ratchet braced his hands on Drift’s thighs, trying to get his bearings. He drew several vents, until he was able to regain control.

“Ok. Follow my lead.”

Drift was nervous for a moment that Ratchet wouldn’t get his joints to work again, but he seemed to have regained his strength, and he lifted himself slowly, valve sucking at Drift’s spike as if it never wanted to let go. Then, Ratchet plunged himself back down, taking Drift all the way to the hilt. He groaned at the sight. Ratchet cleared his throat.

“A little help here?”

“O-oh. Right! Sorry.”

Drift rolled his hips, giving a few shaky thrusts. It took him a moment to find his rhythm, but under Ratchet’s patient guidance, they both found a sort of harmony, Drift bucking up and in, and Ratchet rising and sinking on his throbbing spike.

He was already getting turned on again, which was a relief. At this rate, he’d have another overload before their session was over, but he was determined to give Ratchet the next one.

“H-harder. Please, Drift.” Ratchet’s digits grabbed needily at Drift’s plating. He obliged, thrusting with more intent - and a lot more noise, too, as their plating collided again and again.

Drift reached up, taking Ratchet’s face in his hands and pulling him into a firm kiss. One of his pointed fangs nippled at Ratchet’s bottom lip, earning him a gasp. Drift pulled away, chuckling, and was awestruck when he noticed the expression on Ratchet’s face. The medic wore an expression of pure bliss, optics on Drift as if he was the center of Ratchet’s universe.

He still didn’t quite understand what Ratchet saw in him, but by Primus, he’d do his damnedest to make Ratchet happy. He let the rhythm of his hips grow faster, firmer, until Ratchet was squeezing his optics shut, obviously teetering on the edge of overload.

“C’mon Ratchet. Overload for me, beautiful.”

Ratchet did just that, and it was the most gorgeous thing Drift had ever seen. The medic’s mouth parted in a gasp, his helm tossed back and optics nearly white from the sheer amount of charge racing through his frame. Some of it passed through Drift’s frame, and he, too, found himself overloading, grabbing Ratchet by the hips and pulling him down onto Drift’s spike so he could pump his medic full of more transfluids.

For a moment, they just sat there, no sound between them save for the cooling fans in their frames. Then, Ratchet collapsed forward, leaning against Drift’s chassis. He was just at the right angle for Drift to rest his head on top of Ratchet’s, nuzzling his partner close.

“I hope you’re not disappointed…”

“Kid, did that overload sound disappointed to you?”

Drift smiled warmly, kissing the top of Ratchet’s chevron.

“We can work on stamina later. Besides, we just had several weeks’ worth of foreplay.”

“I’ll try not to wait as long next time.” Drift’s cheeks were still flushed, one of his more embarrassing traits in the berth.

“You won’t have to wait long at all. I want to see what that valve of yours tastes like.”

And then Ratchet was sliding down his frame and dipping between his legs, glossa snaking out to lap at Drift’s valve.

His engine rumbled. It seemed he had more overloads stored in him than he’d first thought. Luckily for them, they had nowhere else to be.


End file.
